Many Happy Returns?
by Once Upon a Whim
Summary: Lucy returns from Salem. And she really doesn't know what to think. [Wyatt/Lucy, written post 2x03 but meant to take place after 2x04, albeit without knowledge of 2x04.]


**Another of my leftover fics written during the season while I was refraining from reading/posting fic because of spoilers. Takes place following the Wyatt-less trip to Salem, 1692, but was written between the Hollywoodland and Salem episodes with no knowledge of the Salem, or any other future episodes, aside from the NBC promo for the Salem episode.**

 **To make myself feel better about Wyatt's behavior, and worse about the position Lucy might have found herself in had things gone another way. Sorry, Lucy :(**

 **Thanks to _qwertygal_ for the beta.**

* * *

Lucy grimaces as she steps gingerly out of the lifeboat and back into 2018 and everything it brings with it.

Had 1692 been a barrel of laughs? No. But it had been, for the most part, enough of a distraction that she didn't spend every waking moment wondering what could have possibly made Wyatt run off like that.

At the time, she'd been just a generic, bland version of confused. A text, then suddenly he'd been kind of twitchy, and the next thing she knew, he was off and running down the hall. Fine, nothing _too_ too crazy there.

But that alarm…

He'd broken _out_ , and it had to have had something to do with the text, right?

She can't deny that from somewhere in the depths of her deep-seated insecurity with herself, the fleeting thought, dripping with catastrophism, that he'd changed his mind, changed his mind about _her_ , about _them_ , that he suddenly regretted _everything_ , had flickered through her consciousness.

No. He wouldn't. It couldn't have all been a lie. …right?

She'd managed to convince herself quickly enough that what they'd shared that night, and since, was real, _they_ were real, and that couldn't be it. It _couldn't._

Her _other_ first thought had been that her mother had somehow found out ( _How? How_ would she have known already?) that they'd slept together and are… together? Officially, if (mostly) secretly? She thinks? Lucy wouldn't have put it past Carol to try and keep them apart simply because he isn't Rittenhouse.

And of course, she can't deny that the notion of Jessica, somehow, some way, suddenly being alive and being the reason for the text had crossed her mind. Something as simple as wife asking her husband when he'd be home for dinner shattering the one relationship she had to cling to? And of course, that would be it, everything Wyatt had ever wanted, and everything Lucy was terrified of.

But she'd quickly tried to push that aside. She'd already thought for so long that Jessica would forever have been the reason Wyatt would never want to move on with her, and he'd proved her wonderfully – _so_ wonderfully – wrong. The odds of something they'd done bringing Jessica back when Wyatt's quest to specifically prevent her killer from existing had failed were so, so low.

At that point, Lucy had finally realized, and managed to convince herself, that it probably had nothing to do with her. Right? She knew little of what his family looked like right now (which, upon realizing that, she'd felt really badly about) – could a text from his terrible father rattle him like that, sending him running? Was his father still alive? And she'd never heard anything about his mother. Was she? His grandfather? Maybe it had been a text from home? Was someone sick? Why wouldn't he tell her, if that was the case?

There was also his profession. Honestly, Lucy really has no idea what any of the real world up on the surface is supposed to be thinking in terms of whether Wyatt, Rufus, and Jiya are alive or not, but covert government ops? Military? He's Delta Force, for god sakes – _someone_ must know that he, obviously a valuable asset, is still alive. And yes, dealing with Rittenhouse is crucial, but what of something bigger? Had something happened? Had he been summoned to deal with some situation with Russia or North Korea that even Agent Christopher wasn't privy to the details on? Would _that_ make him just up and run out?

For better or for worse, she hadn't had all that much time to dwell on the whirlwind of events that had had her emotions all over the map since that first inkling that he might be insinuating that he think she's beautiful.

Because the mothership had jumped.

And they'd had to jump too. Without him.

Relying on Flynn hadn't been ideal, but it had been their only option. In the end, things had gone as well as could have been expected.

And now they're back.

Jiya rushes to Rufus. Connor, Agent Christopher, and Flynn all regard each other coldly. And there's no sign of Wyatt.

She hasn't actually cried yet.

But the stark realization that his absence persists hits Lucy hard and threatens to upend that precarious feat. Tears sting her eyes and she knows it's only going to be a matter of a few seconds before she loses all control and her heart, already having started to break when he'd first run off, finishes the job and shatters.

Which she knows is irrational. If someone in his family is sick, or if he's been summoned for some mission to Russia, or Korea, or wherever, he still wouldn't be there. And just because Agent Christopher isn't immediately offering up an explanation doesn't mean anything either; it's not as if she knows that they've slept together and that he suddenly is more than just a colleague to Lucy. Not that he'd been _just_ that in some time, for far longer than the few days since L.A., but that's really neither here nor there.

Lucy still can't help the fatalistic thinking and the sinking feeling that something's more amiss than just an emergency trip back to Texas or a new assignment.

One tear slips out.

Ignoring the others, not to mention the probable need for a debrief, she hurries toward the hallway leading to her bunk.

But Agent Christopher's voice rings out after her, calling her name before she can escape.

Lucy swipes at her damp cheeks before turning around, trying to steel herself for the inevitable summons to come back and explain everything that had gone on in Salem.

To her surprise, the older woman just eyes her sympathetically and nods in the direction of the dorm rooms. "You have someone waiting for you," she informs gently.

Between that sympathetic look, and an equally concerned look from Jiya across the room, it doesn't take much for Lucy to surmise that the 'someone' in question is Wyatt.

And for as much as she's wanted news of him, now that he's here, she doesn't quite know how to feel. At least if it's bad news, she's still blissfully unaware of whatever it is. (Ok, well, not _blissful_ , but anxious worry is better than possible devastation, isn't it?)

But the tight knot of nerves tugging at her stomach is more than she can handle, and for whatever bad news he might be harboring, he's still _Wyatt_ and the urge to know that he's at least physically ok, and _here_ , draws her tentatively down the hallway.

Peering around the doorframe into the room she shares with Jiya, Lucy can see him, hunched over in the chair at the foot of her bed, head in hands.

She sucks in a sharp breath, the tears springing to her eyes anew. Whatever his reason for bolting was, she _missed_ him. During those six weeks without him, she wouldn't have thought it possible to miss him any more than she did then. Turns out that knowing what it felt like to truly have him, _be_ with him, makes those six weeks pale in comparison to the ache she'd felt without him on this jump.

That still doesn't mean she knows what to do now. Half of her wants to launch herself at him and never let go. The other half of her feels like distance is best, because there's still just so many ways that this conversation, confrontation, whatever it is, turns out to be nothing but bad news.

Wyatt ends up making the decision for her; somehow, even though she's perfectly still and quiet as she takes in the sight of him, he senses her there and springs up from the chair. He's pulling her into his arms, into the room, not a split second later, murmuring into her hair, "Thank god you're okay."

For a second, the worry and anxiety and fear fade, and Lucy just melts into his embrace, breathing in that intrinsically _Wyatt_ scent, relishing the feel of him solid and present against her. And all the stress of the time in Salem, and of Wyatt running off, and _why_ he ran off take a backseat as she clings to him.

But the relief of having him back proves a bit too much after the roller coaster of emotions since 1941 and the tears that had been building finally spill over in full force. Lucy weeps wordlessly against Wyatt's shoulder, really just having no idea what she should feel or think right now.

Wyatt finally catches on to her crying when she lets out a soft sniffle. He leans back out of the embrace, looking crestfallen when he takes in her tear-streaked cheeks. His hands fly up to cradle her face, and Lucy can't help but lean into his touch, resting her hands over his wrists as her eyes flutter shut.

"I'm so sorry for leaving you with … that jackass," he chokes out, "to keep you safe."

The apology drags Lucy right back into the throes of her worry and trepidation over his disappearance. It's not that she doesn't appreciate the sentiment – obviously, she hadn't exactly been thrilled at the prospect of Flynn travelling with her and Rufus – but Wyatt's apology is a little off-the-mark considering that Flynn's presence is hardly what has her so worked up.

"I never should have left," Wyatt adds, his voice strained as he sweeps his thumbs over Lucy's damp cheeks.

There it is.

Lucy grips his wrists tighter, trying to muster up the composure to look him in the eyes.

When she manages it, he looks nearly as wrecked as she feels. But she needs to know.

She ducks her head just a bit, shaking off his hands, to break that little bit of physical contact between them so she can gather herself enough to spit out the question.

A deep breath, then she looks back up at him, her voice catching on the lump in her throat. "Then why…" She trails off, unable to get anything else out but the crux of the issue – _why?_

Wyatt takes a deep breath of his own, then drops the proverbial bomb. "Jessica's alive. That was that text."

Now, for the bulk of her adult life, Lucy had thought the worst possible news she'd ever hear was that her father was dying, then dead, when she'd only been in high school. Her mother's cancer diagnosis had joined the ranks of 'worst possible news' a few years ago.

Then Amy had been gone.

Then her mother had just casually slipped into conversation the Rittenhouse admission.

 _Those_ had all nearly broken her.

This? Well, it certainly feels like it's finishing that job of just completely breaking her for good.

Wyatt's words feel physical, visceral, and for a split second, Lucy is 100% sure she's going to retch. When that sensation passes, she thinks maybe a numb "Oh" slips from her lips, but she can't be positive.

What she _is_ positive of? That her paranoid insecurities – the ones she'd wrestled with as he'd stumbled through his compliments of her by the pool, as he'd first kissed her, as he'd pulled her delicate gown over her head, even as he'd slid _inside_ her, and still even when waking in his arms the next morning – weren't actually just overanxious, paranoid, unfounded worries.

She should have known better than to ever let herself think she'd be anything but a stand-in, an understudy.

And now the lead is back to reprise her role.

Rational thought doesn't have much place in her brain at that moment, so all Lucy can think to do is try to play it off as if she's not really affected.

That doesn't go very well.

Lucy swallows hard, already feeling a fresh onslaught of tears threatening, along with a renewed urge to vomit. She can't be near him. Not after just finally getting to be with him, only to lose him all over again.

She's pretty proud of herself for managing to force out a choked lie of "That's great." But once that's out, she most definitely needs to get out too. "I need to…" she starts, trying to bolt for the bathroom – the only place in the bunker with a modicum of privacy – before she breaks down, but it's a lost cause. Tears are already streaming down her cheeks anew as she tries to push past Wyatt out of the room, and a particularly loud, full-body, hiccupping sob wrenches its way out of her before she can even reach the doorway.

Of course he'd try to stop her escape. That much she should have known. Wyatt grabs for her arm immediately – a gesture made even more gut-wrenchingly painful by the fact that it so closely echoes when he'd first reached for her in that guesthouse – protesting, "Lucy, wait-" She still has enough of a sense of pride to yank her arm away, still resolved in her quest to get away. But – god damn his Delta Force tactics all to hell – he's stronger and quicker and not a split second later does he have her in a full-body hold, his arms reaching around her from the side, holding her tightly to him.

What Lucy couldn't have known was just exactly how weak she really is, because she can't resist him. Not for very long. She struggles in his hold, trying to fight him, trying to push him away both physically and mentally. But he's never not going to be physically stronger than her, and between this and the past few days in Salem, the emotional exhaustion and devastation is too much, and she can't muster enough physical resolve to push him away anymore. So she relents, letting him turn her to face him, collapsing into his arms, and clinging to him as she bawls against his chest.

It's a pretty terrible feeling to know that the one person you have left in the world is the one breaking your heart, and because he's the only person you have left, you still only have him to comfort you as you try to wrap your mind around how to pick up the pieces. As much as she never wanted to be, Lucy is most certainly now an authority on that terrible feeling.

But she can't seem to make herself do anything but stand there, slumped in Wyatt's arms as violent sobs wrack her body.

It makes it even worse that he's so kind, and gentle, and caring about it, just rocking her against him, stroking her back, kissing the side of her head, and – if she's not mistaken through the cloudy haze of snot and tears – shuddering now and then against her as he cries right along with her.

Which doesn't make any sense, but Lucy's hardly in a position to process that rationally.

It makes even _less_ sense when, a few beats later, his gravelly voice vows in her ear, "I'm not leaving you, Lucy. I want _you_."

Lucy's breath catches in her throat, and for as miserable as she feels right now, words like that, from _him_ , are still enough to send her heart into a hopeful little flip-flop.

But there's no way it could possibly be true. There's just no way.

Apparently her faith in her own shortcomings is paradoxically one of her biggest strengths, because her disbelief at his assertion is what finally gives Lucy the determination to push Wyatt away. At which point she pretty much laughs in his face, reminding him with bitter incredulity, "It's _Jessica._ "

If he's fazed at all by her refusal to believe him, he doesn't show it, and instead just reaches to cup her face again, insisting fiercely, "She's not _you._ "

Lucy can feel her heart pounding, and oh, she _wants_ to be able to believe what she hears him saying, but it doesn't make any _sense_.

She knows he can see the wary skepticism written all over her face, because he slides his hands down from her cheeks to twine his fingers through hers. He tugs on her arm, trying to pull her over to her rickety cot, "C'mere."

But Lucy balks, not trusting… well, anything, really. She can't quite wrap her mind around this new reality she's suddenly been thrust into.

Wyatt squeezes her hand, asking plaintively with his own eyes still red and shiny, "Please?"

What can she do but go along with it? So she listlessly follows him over to the bed, not resisting when he sits with one knee hitched up onto the bed, leaving room for her to perch herself between his legs while he cradles her against his chest again.

The position is so close to how they sat not long ago, when he'd fervently promised her that she hadn't lost him. At the time, she'd believed him. Now, even though he's insistent once again, she's just not sure anymore.

It's as if Wyatt knows her well enough to read her mind; he sighs into her hair briefly before murmuring against her head, "I know how it looks that I ran out to see Jessica right when we were in the middle of talking about us. I know," he admits, contrite. "And I am _so_ sorry. I just-"

Lucy hears Wyatt's voice catch and her heart breaks just a little more. For him. What must it have been like to get that news about Jessica? God, she can't even imagine the shock of what he's been having to go through.

He breaks through that train of thought when he speaks again, still struggling to explain. "I didn't know who sent it. I didn't believe it," he chokes out, sounding utterly incredulous. "Seriously, how could that be real? I thought it was a trap, Rittenhouse or something. But I had to find out." He pauses then, leaning back from Lucy, looking her earnestly in the eye. "And if it was a trap," he explains, "I couldn't have you trying to come with me. Or Rufus, or anyone."

Lucy actually can't refute that logic, and it's just like Wyatt to put everyone else's safety above his own. Except… "But it wasn't a trap," she whispers, her eyes falling shut once more as the reality of Jessica's existence hits her all over again.

Wyatt snorts an incredulous "No. Well, I don't know," he concedes. "I still don't know how or why she's alive. Maybe it still was Rittenhouse, to try to throw us off or something."

 _Us_ , Lucy thinks dourly. _Us._ Mason Industries refugees/Time Team _us_ or Wyatt-and-Lucy _us_? And had they ever really even been that second one?

But he's not out of line in that kind of thinking, she admits inwardly. "I did wonder if my mother somehow knew we-" Lucy stops short, not quite willing to reduce that night to just 'had sex' or 'slept together', if only for the sake of her own heart, regardless of how he might see it. "…about …us," she finishes. "And did something," she adds, conceding that she knows as well as he does what lows her own mother might sink to. But _is_ it a low, really? If whatever she might have done has brought Wyatt his wife back?

"Even if it was her doing this," Wyatt says, his voice unwavering now, "it's not going to work."

Hadn't it already, Lucy wonders cynically. Jessica is back. There's no denying it. She wrings her hands together in her lap and starts to voice exactly that protest to him. "But-"

"It's _not_ ," he cuts her off. "I don't- It was like seeing a _ghost_. It's her but it's not." He shakes his head and reaches for her chin, coaxing her into looking at him again. His big blue eyes boring into Lucy's, he swears to her, "I still lost _my_ Jessica 6 years ago. I- I moved _on_. To you."

The awful, hiccupping sobs move back in with full force, because she wants it to be true so badly. But how can it be?

Of course, Wyatt is just as wonderful as always, taking her back into his arms, reassuring her, "I'm glad she's alive. You have _no_ idea. But the whole time I'm there talking to her, I know you're sitting here not knowing what the hell happened."

"But you're _married_ ," Lucy protests, sniffling and trying in vain to calm herself down.

"No," Wyatt counters, even having the audacity to chuckle against the top of her head. "I'm not."

The blows just keep coming, because Lucy has _no_ idea how to process _that._ Well, at least it stops the tears momentarily. Stunned, she pulls away from him, leaning back and looking up at him questioningly.

He shoots her a lopsided smile and brushes a strand of tangled, greasy hair away from her face. "Apparently we got divorced four years ago," he shrugs, as if somehow it's not a big deal. "She's engaged to some other guy."

Lucy's half-convinced at this point that she's living in some sort of twisted dream, because none of this is making the slightest bit of sense. "You-" She attempts a question, but has to clear her throat. When she has her voice back, she manages a befuddled, "You're ok with that?"

"We both are," Wyatt confirms, running his thumb over her cheek. Lucy's still trying to process that when he adds, "She even asked about you."

Ok, yeah, she definitely has to be dreaming now, right? Lucy wrinkles her face in confusion, wiping at the relicts of earlier tears. She can't possibly fathom why Jessica would even _know_ about her, never mind think to ask after her. "What?" she asks, utterly dumbfounded.

Wyatt just smirks that infuriatingly endearing smirk of his, as if both their worlds haven't just been completely turned upside down. "Apparently," he grins, and reaches for her hip, pulling her flush against him, "you and I have been together for almost a year. Some time around Germany, I think."

In spite of all the emotional insanity roiling in her mind, Lucy can't help but shiver when he tugs her even closer to him; she's never been unaffected by his proximity. Which, she supposes, is just further support for his assertion that, under other circumstances, they might have acted on such attraction that much earlier. She even snorts a soft, wry laugh as one particular notion crosses her mind. She nudges him in the ribs. "You _really_ didn't like Fleming flirting with me, huh?"

He lets out a chuckle and hugs her still closer. "No."

Lucy hardly feels settled after everything that's happened, but in Wyatt's arms, it feels like maybe, just maybe, she can finally let herself relax just a little. It _is_ at least a little bit of reassurance to hear that, in a world where he _hadn't_ spent the last half a decade-plus desperately mourning Jessica, the two of them really had sort of naturally gravitated to each other right away, pretty much as soon as they'd been thrown together by this time traveling nonsense.

She presses her face to his chest and takes a deep, shaky breath.

Wyatt drops a kiss on the top of her head, reiterating, "Hey, I mean it. I- You- _Us._ " He puts enough space between them to look her in the eyes again. _"_ I'm not giving this up," he promises. "Okay?"

Does she really believe it? Honestly, she has no idea. But she can't exactly voice that doubt to him when he's so unwavering in his resolve. So Lucy just forces as much of a smile as she can muster and nods, sniffling.

And then he's leaning in, pressing his mouth to hers – the first kiss since leaving the idyllic little bubble that was Hedy's guesthouse. Heat races through Lucy's veins, and she wants to be able to just be happy to have him back, but her pessimistic side just reminds her this this – his kisses, his touch, _him_ – is everything she stands to lose now that Jessica is back.

She manages to stave off the tears while they're kissing, but the second he envelops her into another hug, her eyes are welling up all over again.

Lucy's grateful that Wyatt seems to take the crying as tears of happiness; he must feel the mood is light enough to crack a lame joke at the familiarity of her crying against him in his arms, on her bed, in that room.

"We've got to stop meeting here like this," he murmurs into her hair, chuckling and giving her a good-natured squeeze.

She strains to choke out half a laugh. He's not wrong about that. "Kinda hate this room," she admits, sniffling.

Rubbing her back again, Wyatt speaks up, no nonsense. "We should tell Christopher we need to shuffle the bunk arrangements around here. Actually live together," he poses. "Doesn't really count if we're not in the same bed. Or at least room," he shrugs against her. "You'd think if we've been together a year, the least they could do is let us have our own room…"

He's still going on, something about not getting why Rufus and Jiya hadn't been in the same room already either, but Lucy doesn't really hear it. She can't do anything but lean back and blink hard at him, her jaw hanging open. She'd been 100% convinced, not five minutes ago, that she'd lost him for good to his wife. And sure, placating her with vague promises about not leaving is one thing, but to actually follow through and not only vow to stay with her, but to actually take that next step of being together? At least as much as this stupid bunker will allow? Roller coaster of emotions, indeed. "Really?" she squeaks out.

"Really," Wyatt nods, grinning. He presses a sweet kiss to her lips and pulls her in for another embrace.

Lucy just sighs against him, trying to process the whirlwind of… everything.

Of course, Wyatt chooses that moment to add even more to that _everything_ , admitting quietly, "Ya know, I think it was good… in a way… that I went." He clarifies hurriedly, "Not that I left… the way I did, but… Maybe I needed to see her."

Jessica. Again.

Lucy stiffens in Wyatt's arms and looks up at him curiously.

"I-" he starts shakily. "What happened in '41… It _was_ amazing," he continues, a faraway smile washing over his face. When he focuses back on Lucy, he adds, "and I wanted that – _us_ – to happen for longer than I think I even realized. But, Lucy," he insists, choking back emotions, " you don't _ever_ deserve to be anyone's consolation prize, and I think some part of me, no matter how happy I was to be with you, might have doubted my own motivations." His shoulders sag in what looks like defeat, as if he's ashamed of that admission. Until he looks her in the eyes again, his gaze intent. "But I don't now," he swears. "All I wanted to do was get back here to you and apologize for leaving like that."

You'd think that Wyatt pretty much exactly articulating her current fears and countering them would be enough to put Lucy at ease, but somehow it's not enough. She tells him it's ok, but it sounds rehearsed and robotic even to her own ears. And she's really just not sure what to do now. Is she tumbling headfirst into devastation as she had been when Jessica's name had first been uttered? No, but neither does she truly feel ok with how things have been left.

She's unsettled at best, not to mention at a loss for what comes next.

It's only when she looks down at her hands in her lap that at least one practical thing she can do comes to mind. "I should… get changed," she says stiltedly, fingering the rough fabric of the shapeless black shift from Salem that she still wears. "Shower," she adds, shrugging. "Hygiene in the 1600s…"

Wyatt smirks again in response and steals a glance in the direction of the doorway. The absence of anyone there is apparently what he'd been looking for, because he turns back to her conspiratorially and nudges her thigh. "Want some company?"

Lucy's jaw drops a little in surprise at the racy suggestion, and she feels her cheeks flush warmer ever so slightly. Honestly, when they'd first come back from 1941, she'd just been giddy over the prospect of being with him after so long thinking it would never happen, and she hadn't put too much thought into what a relationship with Wyatt might actually look like, especially given the constraints of the bunker.

Apparently it looks like sex in the shower, which, for all her misgivings about what she'd just found out, has her blood racing.

Wyatt must be able to see the desire that suddenly pushing aside the uncertainties still plaguing her; he leans in closer, brushing a trail of heated kisses up the length of her neck, pausing only when he nears her ear to whisper huskily, "Might not get much privacy around here otherwise, even if Christopher does greenlight a room switch…"

Lucy lets out a shuddery breath at the feel of his hot breath on her skin, and when he straightens back up, she can see her own desire mirrored in his eyes.

The next kiss is fiery, escalating quickly, hands wandering and tongues tangling. For a few heartbeats, Lucy is almost able to forget. Almost able to forget as Wyatt backs away toward the door, tugging her with him by the hand, snatching up her towel and shower kit in the processes.

Almost able to forget.

Almost able to believe that the happiness of this moment is enough.

Because right then? She _is_ happy.

She's just not sure she can truly trust it.

She's trusted him with her life more times than she can count at this point. And, oh, she'll trust him with her body in the shower, for sure. _That's_ not the issue.

Her heart though? Knowing everything he just told her, that Jessica is back? As much as she wants to trust him, she's not sure that she can. Not with her heart.

But it's a little late for that, now isn't it?

Because he already has it. Has had it, for longer than she's willing to admit.

She just has to hope he's being honest with her. And with himself.

And even then, maybe it's not so much a matter of not trusting him, and his words and his intentions. If she's learned anything about Wyatt Logan since meeting him, it's that he's fiercely loyal and honest. She _should_ trust him when he says he wants her and that he won't leave her.

But it's not him she doesn't trust.

It's that she doesn't trust _herself_ to be enough, not for Wyatt.

And maybe she _never_ really has thought she's enough, with anyone, not with her mother, other men, or hiring and tenure committees.

She definitely doesn't now. Not when Jessica is out there somewhere.

She follows him to the shower anyway.

 **~FIN~**

* * *

 **Thanks to anyone still out there reading in spite of cancellation news :(**


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